


are you with me

by lookingatstars



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-12 07:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingatstars/pseuds/lookingatstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry comes out. Louis doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	are you with me

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for Nika for beta/hand holding. I never would have finished this without her.

When the photo leaks, it's simultaneously the best and worst day of Harry Styles' life.

-

Harry’s pissed, swaying and clinging to Louis, a bright smile on his face. He stumbles slightly, pressing them into the nearest building, eyes fixed on Louis’ lips. They’re shiny and Harry doesn’t think, just leans forward to kiss him, moaning at the taste. A camera flashes across the street, but Harry doesn’t register it, just pulls away with a silly grin, wrapping an arm around Louis’ shoulders, pulling him towards a taxi.

-

The photo becomes another thing on a long list that interviewers aren’t allowed to mention. PR preps them for the question anyway and Harry resists rolling his eyes the entire time. He’s not afraid to talk about the picture, of what it implies, but the people around him seem to be. 

They get a aggressive reporter just days after it leaks. Louis’ so quick to recite the carefully laid out words, shrugging it off as a snog between mates. Harry keeps his eyes down, fiddling with the bracelets covering his wrist. He wants to reach for Louis’ hand and tangle their fingers, but he stays still. The cameras stay on them, recording their every move.

-

The interview ends and Harry goes back to their hotel room, locking it from the inside. When someone comes around, banging on the door, he doesn’t move, just curls up wordlessly on the bed and ignores it.

He sleeps for shit, legs wrapped tightly around a pillow. He misses Louis. His stupid hipbones and his stupid smile and the way his fingers curl in Harry's hair as he drifts to sleep.

-

“I want to come out,” he tells Sara from PR over the phone during their next meeting, all the boys stuffed into Paul’s hotel room. 

Louis’ head shoots up and Paul raises a brow, but Harry doesn’t stop. “I’m going to do it. Everyone already knows anyway. I want it to be official."

Sarah pauses, the line quiet, before she speaks again. “That...we can do that,” she says calmly. “If that’s what you want.”

“I do,” confirms Harry, meeting Louis’ eyes, challenging. Harry’s eyes say _are you with me_?

Louis doesn’t meet his gaze.

“This could work.” Harry hears Sarah say, but he’s already tuned her out.

\--

Louis pulls him aside after the meeting, shoving him against the wall. "You can't do this. Everyone’s going to know about--” he shakes his head, starting again. “You’re going to hurt the band.”

"Do you realize what you're asking of me? What you've been asking of me for years?" Harry asks, his voice unsteady.

Louis rubs a hand over his forehead, breathing out a sigh. "One day, Harry. You know that. One day we'll get there."

Harry lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "I know from experience we won't." He walks away, chest tight.

\--

Harry does an interview with a London-based gay magazine as soon as the tour wraps up. Sarah organizes most of it. She’s supportive in a way Harry didn’t know PR might be. 

When the issue hits the stands, Harry spends the entire day smiling. He smiles at the quotes they chose, loves how he got a say in all of it. He laughs, shoving it in Liam and Zayn's faces, Niall with a copy of his own, flicking through it. "This is pretty great, Haz,” Niall says, grinning up at him.

Harry's happy. He feels a million things and finally, _finally_ shame is none of them. He kisses Louis when the boys leave their flat, whispering into his lips, “I love you.”

Louis smiles, but it’s the kind of smile he gives when he feels unsure of everything and Harry's starting to think that maybe he really is just doing this on his own. He ignores the fact that Louis' chose to remain silent. Harry ignores it because Louis' lying, but Harry's not, not anymore .

\--

Harry stays away from the internet as much as possible when they're on break, but it doesn't last long once they're back on tour. He can't resist the urge to check Twitter, his name _still_ trending 8 days after the release of the article. 

“I’m proud of you, you know,” Zayn says after their first show on the American tour, when they’re getting dressed before heading back to the hotel . Harry grins, pulling Zayn into a hug, mumbling into his neck.

"Thanks,” says Harry.

Zayn keeps an arm around them when they head out of the back of the venue, steering him away from a few protesters on the other side of the fence. Harry hears them yelling about fire and hell, but he doesn't look up, just curls deeper into Zayn's side before climbing onto the bus. He has a brief thought, wishing Louis was by his side, but dismisses it before it has time to develop.

\--

Louis has been sulking for the entire American tour, three shows in. Harry wishes he wouldn't, but Louis’ won’t listen when Harry tries to talk to him.

There are people on twitter calling Harry a fag, mothers refusing to bring their kids to concerts, blogs discrediting all of his hard work because he likes to shag men. Some people suddenly hate him so much, but then. But then there are kids tweeting him and finding him at meet and greets, telling him how thankful they are. How he helped them. How they thought they were alone and wrong and weird, and Harry wants to pull all of them all into hugs and say _I know, I felt the same way_ , so he does.

\--

"You’re like some gay poster child now,” Louis scoffs and really, Harry's surprised this hasn’t happened sooner. 

He shakes his head, meeting Louis' eyes. "Don't do this. Don't lash out at me because you're miserable."

"I'm fine, Harry. People don't hate _me_. I'm not the one who put the band in jeopardy." 

Harry nods, humming, biting down on his lip. "You’re right. You're the one who's lying to everyone, even yourself. We had a chance with the photo, but you couldn't do it, right?" Harry shakes his head. "It's ironic because when I met you, that's what I fell for, you know? Your charm, your good looks, yeah. But mostly the way that you were. This confident person who didn't care what the people around him thought. You were my hero, Lou. But now?" Harry swallows hard, looking down at the floor. "You're trying so hard to be _so fake_ and it's just. It's no wonder I can barely touch you anymore."

Harry knows he’s being unfair, he knows he should let Louis come to terms with all of this on his own, but it’s true. It’s the most honest thing he’s said to Louis in so long and he doesn’t want to take it back.

Louis goes pale and lets out a deep breath, shaking his head. He leaves Harry’s hotel room without saying another word and Harry can’t find it in himself to go after him.

He googles the nearest gay bar and gets absolutely trashed at a seedy club, ditching security after a while. He lets pretty boys buy him drinks, grinds against them on the dance floor, and when a boy-- Tim...Tom? -- breathes hotly in his ear, pushing him towards the bathroom, he doesn’t object. Harry lets Tom blow him in a stall, his head dropping to the wall as the boy slides to his knees, taking Harry’s cock into his mouth. He refuses to feel guilty.

He's being reckless, but he’s eighteen and he’s gay and it feels good. Better than good.

\--

Harry and Louis are staying in separate hotel rooms and Harry never knew it was possible to feel so good and so bad at the same time.

PR is demanding they deal with all the photos from his night out, but he doesn’t care about that either. There's no photo of him getting head, so at least there’s that.

\--

Harry means to say _I'm sorry_ or _I love you_ or anything but, “I hooked up with a guy last night.” God, anything but that, but that’s exactly what comes out of his mouth. 

The five of them are in the dressing room, an hour to kill before the show and Harry wishes that he had done this in private.

He can see the color drain from Louis’ face and Harry wants to fix it, he wants to hold him and most of all he wants to take back that stupid blowjob and--

But Louis laughs. “Of course you did, Harry. Every boy for miles wants to suck your dick now, right? And you’re so easy for it. Did you even remember that you had a boyfriend while he was fucking you?” Harry swallows and opens his mouth to say something, anything, but Louis keeps going. “Maybe I’m fake, but that doesn’t make you better than me. Just because-- because you came out, which. Congratulations. And fuck you,” Louis spits out and then walks out of the room, Niall hot on this trail.

Louis avoids him for forty-eight hours and by the end of it, Harry is on the verge of a breakdown. It's so cliche, but he _aches_ for Louis' touch. 

At the hotel that night Harry begs Paul for a key to Louis’ room. Paul doesn't give in right away, but Harry promises to fix things and suddenly he's standing in front of Louis’ room practically shaking from nerves. He lets himself in, taking a tentative step to where Louis is sprawled on the bed, eyes fixed on the telly. “What?” he asks, tone anything but friendly.

"I messed up, Louis. I'm _sorry_ ,” says Harry, fiddling with his beanie before crossing his arms over his chest.

“I think it’s a bit late for apologies.” After a beat. “I can't do this anymore," says Louis, sitting up on the bed. 

Harry shakes his head, pressing his fingers to his closed eyelids. “You _can_. We can fix this. I promise I’ll fix it.”

“There’s nothing to fix, we’re done.”

“No,” Harry breathes, opening his eyes to meet Louis’. “You don’t mean that.” 

“What did you except? Did you think you could fuck someone else and I’d just forgive you? I thought you knew me better than that, Harry,” he says, tone mocking. “Now get the fuck out.” 

Harry doesn’t argue. He walks back to his own room, quietly shutting the door behind him before walking to the minibar. 

\--

Tour ends and they fly back to London. At their flat, Harry follows Louis into his room. He stands in the doorway, watching Louis pack, looking down after a few moments. “You don’t have to leave,” Harry says quietly. “This is your home, too.”

Louis shakes his head and clears his throat, voice tight. “Leave it, Harry.”

“No,” Harry demands, walking toward Louis, taking hold of his bag, “I love you. You can’t leave over one mistake.”

Louis snatches the bag back and heads for the door, "I'll be at Zayn's if you need me.”

“I always need you,” Harry says, but hears the door slam in response.

\--

Harry spends a lot of time on Louis’ side of the bed, wearing Louis’ clothes, thumb hovering over Louis’ name in his contact list. He doesn’t press call.

\--

He's fucking an American boy he found at a club in Soho, pliant under him, fingers twisted into his hair when it slips out. It’s just a simple, "Louis," but the boy's heard. He whimpers -- fucking _whimpers_ \-- and nods, clutching at the duvet.

"Say it again," he begs, meeting Harry's thrusts.

Harry fucks into him harder, biting down on his shoulder, murmuring around his skin, "fuck, Louis."

Harry slips out of him, tugging the condom off and jerking himself over his back, spilling onto his pale skin, groaning. He barely gives the boy a chance to throw on his clothes before kicking him out of the flat.

\--

Harry doesn’t think about how he spends most of his nights at gay bars and most of his mornings hungover, and how he tries to avoid his bandmates at all costs. He doesn’t think about the new album they have to start recording in a few weeks. He definitely doesn’t think about leaving the band.

\--

Harry sends Louis texts every day. Sometimes he sends him meaningless things like _im watching the new season of being human have you seen it? .x_ and sometimes, after a few drinks, he gets braver. He’s on his fifth drink when he sends Louis a series of them.

_out with nick a bit pissed_

_I miss you how is zayns?_

_are you coming home ever_

_I want you to come home_

_I miss you .xxxx_

Louis never responds.

\--

Harry goes home after a few weeks of Louis ignoring his attempts to get in touch and spends his days with his mom and step-dad, eating home-cooked meal. At night, he curls up on Gemma's bed, asking her about Uni.

“I know what you’re doing. You avoiding talking about Louis,” she says, nudging his shoulder. “You can talk to me, you know.”

“I know,” he says, meeting her eyes with a smile. “I guess I’m not ready to talk.”

Gemma makes a sympathetic noise and nods, quiet. “You’ll get there.”

Harry huffs out a laugh. “Maybe.”

-

Harry returns to London to record and it’s tense at best. He spends a lot of time in the lounge with his phone, texting Nick and Caroline. They conference call with Syco after a week of fruitless studio time. Lisa from the label tells them they’re running out of time and when she mentions contracts, Harry clears his throat. "How much would it take to buy out? My contact, I mean."

There's a pause on the other line. "You mean leave the band?" Lisa asks. Harry nods before realizing she can't see him. He fiddles with his bracelets, refusing to meet the eyes resting on him. 

"Yeah. How much would that cost me?"

Louis stands, his palms coming down on the table firmly. "This is fucking ridiculous. You're not leaving the band, Harry."

Harry looks up, his chest tightening when their eyes meet. "I could. It isn't working with me here, you might be better off."

Liam shakes his head, sighing. "We wouldn't be. If you quit, there's no band."

Niall and Zayn nod and Harry moves his eyes back to Louis, swallowing hard. "Do you agree with them?"

Louis nods without pause, taking a deep breath. "We'll be in touch," he says to Lisa before ending the call, looking over at Harry. "Be at the flat around 8, okay? We'll talk."

Harry agrees, nodding. "Yeah, okay."

\--

He spends a lot of time cleaning up, throwing away empty beer bottles and take away containers, tidying up and washing their sheets. He folds all of Louis' clothes that he's been wearing, putting them away neatly, getting everything in order as he waits.

Louis’ almost an hour late, using his key to let himself in before sitting next to Harry on the couch.

"Hey," Harry says, looking over at him. 

"Look," Louis starts, "I know I’ve been ignoring you, but I needed time."

Harry nods, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I know. I didn't mean to text so much."

Louis shrugs.

Harry looks up, taking him in, his heart beating fast. "How, um. How's Zayn’s?" he asks, hesitating.

Louis shrugs, huffing out a small laugh. "I think he's sick of me."

"You could come back," Harry says, the words slipping out before he has a chance to stop them.

Louis bites his lip and Harry can tell he’s having trouble meeting his eyes. “I bought a place. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”

Harry tangles his hand in his shirt, pulling it up over his face. “Fuck,” he breathes out, groaning. “I thought.” He clears his throat, letting his jumper fall back into place. “I thought you came over to tell me you were coming home.”

“No,” Louis says, “but you can’t leave the band, Harry. Things aren’t right with us, I know, but you can’t punish the band for that. I move into the new place next week. You could swing by, help me paint. We could get take away or something.”

Harry nods, breathing deep, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah, okay.”

 

-

Studio time goes smoother after that. There’s an odd sort of truce they’re all taken to. They sit in the lounge after a long day, Niall strumming his guitar while Louis keeps the beat on his leg. Harry sings freely and Liam records it on his iPhone with Zayn’s head rested in his lap, nodding along happily. It’s not perfect, but it’s something.

-

He meets Sam for lunch sometimes, hangs out with Louise and Lux when he has time away from the studio, goes antiquing with Nick. He tries to make a life for himself outside of the band, just in case.

-

He helps Louis paint a few weeks later. They unpack and buy furniture online and Harry cooks dinner. They eat on the floor, plates balanced on a few cardboard boxes.

“It’s nice to spend time with you,” says Harry.

Louis smiles small and Harry can’t help but return it. “Yeah,” Louis says, picking at his chicken. “It’s a bit weird, isn’t it? Me having my own place.”

Harry nods, looking around at the empty flat, boxes littered around the room. “It reminds me of when we first moved in together. All the boxes.”

“Yeah,” Louis says around a smile, nodding. “I suppose so. You cooked me dinner for a week straight.”

He grins, nodding. “And you let me drink loads of wine even though I was only seventeen.”

Louis laughs quietly. “Yeah. We watched the entire Gilmore Girls boxset in about four days. Didn’t leave the bed much, either.”

Harry feels his breath hitch at that, swallowing hard. “Yeah.” He shifts, looking down at his plate, tentative. “Do you think we’ll ever get back to that?”

“Sometimes I do.” Louis breathes out a sigh. “This whole thing, the photo leaking and you coming out, it’s been a lot for me, Harry. I don’t think you saw that”

“Show me?” Harry asks, hopeful.

Louis hesitates for a moment before answering. “I don’t owe anyone anything. I don’t see why I should have to divulge the most personal details of my life. Because people are curious? It’s ridiculous.”

Harry pushes the box aside, crawling over to Louis. “Lou,” he says, bringing his hand to Louis’ shoulder. He meets Louis’ eyes. “But what’s the alternative? You never tell the world who you are? I just.” Harry pulls back, fixing his fringe and bites down on his lip. “When I came out, it was because I wanted people to know who I really am. People said awful things, sure, you were there, you know that, but that was only a small part of it.”

“That makes sense for you and hey,” Louis smiles, reaching for Harry’s hand. “I’m proud of you. I never said that, but I am. It’s just not something I want to do. It’s personal, Harry. They can ask me about things that don’t matter, but this, this matters and I’m not sharing it.”

Harry nods, squeezing Louis’ shoulder.

-

Things don’t really go back to normal. Harry’s not really sure what normal is anymore, but they do settle into a routine. Harry visits Louis and brings boxsets of American television and Louis sits close to him at the studio. The boys start meeting Harry’s eyes and the tension lets up a bit, enough that Harry feels settled.

It still comes as a surprise when Louis snogs him during an episode of The O.C.

“Sorry,” Louis says, pulling back and focusing on the telly again. “Seth and Summer had a moment, I got inspired.”

Harry barks out a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand, turning to Louis. “You kissed me because of Seth and Summer?”

Louis shrugs. “What can I say? I’m rooting for young Cohen. Fit lad, that one. I’d shag him.”

Harry pokes Louis in the stomach before reaching for Louis’ hand. Louis tangles their fingers together, smiling over at him. “We could be Seth and Summer. We could have a moment.”

“You have to be Summer,” Louis says, playing with their fingers.

Harry shrugs. “She has great hair.”


End file.
